Chapter 29 The Beat Before Chaos

• We left the cabin before dawn.
• The air bit us—a dry, alpine wind, as if winter hadn’t fully died. The mountain bid us farewell in silence. No sun—just a leaden sky foretelling blood. Dante draped his coat over my shoulders without a word. I looked at him as if it were the last time—because maybe it was.
• We traveled in two black SUVs, drifting across the border like nameless shadows. Verona drove, brow furrowed, lips pressed. Ivy sat in the front passenger seat, tapping her iPad with movements as sharp as her suit. Behind us, silent, was Simón: new, professional, wearing dark glasses, an Argentine accent and a perfection that gave me goosebumps immediately. Too clean. Too prepared. As if he’d never had doubts.